Of Tea and Apologies
by Isilien Elenihin
Summary: "Ro-ose." A voice she associated with pinstripes and chucks intruded on her sleep. Rose Tyler, however, resolutely kept her eyes closed.


A/N: Nothing you recognize belongs to me! This was written for a gif over on tumblr. Enjoy! :D

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"Ro-ose." A voice she associated with pinstripes and chucks intruded on her sleep. Rose Tyler, however, resolutely kept her eyes closed. The Doctor had the attention span of a three-year old on a sugar rush and if she could just outlast him she could finally get the eight hours of sleep she required to be a proper human being. "Ro-oose," the voice insisted.

"Sleeping," she growled and pulled the pillow over her head.

"Honestly," the voice said, and it sounded more than a little put-out. "You and your eight hours of sleep. You've had six! That's more than enough. The average human can function on four hours of sleep, which is still a bit rubbish, but you lot don't have superior physiology, so I guess you're forgiven."

She remained silent and tried to fall back into the lovely dream she'd been having. It was rather reminiscent of the last planet they'd visited—minus the incarceration for public nudity brought about by the Doctor's attempt to fix a jammed 'declother.' He fixed it just a little too well and those were her favorite jeans and she was still mad at him for that. In her dream the declother still malfunctioned, but the events that followed were markedly different. Perhaps if the Doctor had snogged her against the wall she wouldn't be quite as angry with him, but instead he had steadfastly refused to look whilst random strangers stopped and stared. Why was it that the one person she _wanted_ to see her naked never would?

"Rose?" The voice was closer and suddenly the pillow had vanished. She sighed and opened her eyes. The Doctor was standing over her bed, hair askew (as always) and beaming away. He held out a mug. "I brought tea." She glared at him, but took the mug and sipped. It was just how she liked it and the perfect temperature. He managed to remain silent until she'd finished almost half of the mug although he was bouncing on his heels the whole time.

"Out with it," she commanded.

"Take your time," he replied. "But when you're done come to the console room. There's something I want to show you."

She cocked an eyebrow. "What should I wear?"

He ran his eyes up and down her body with clinical dispassion. "What you've got on is fine."

"We're not going to get mobbed by angry villagers?" she pressed. "No one's waiting out there to toss us into prison?"

He traced x's across his chest. "Cross my hearts and hope to regenerate." Before she could even attempt to react he brushed his lips in a quick kiss over her hair and turned away. "See you in a bit!" he tossed over his shoulder as he bounded from the room.

Rose glared after him. He couldn't just play it straight and _tell_ her what he wanted, no, that would be far too simple and easy. She finished her tea at leisure, because he told her not to rush, dammit, and she wasn't going to rush. When the mug was empty and she'd tidied up her hair she found her favorite fuzzy slippers and wrapped dressing-gown over her green and purple duck pajamas. She trusted the Doctor with her life, but he was a horrible driver at best. Just in case she tucked her lockpicking kit into her dressing-gown pocket with her phone. Better than a boyscout, she was.

The Doctor was waiting for her in the console room and for once he didn't make a snide remark about humans and their inferior biology. He held out his hand and wiggled his fingers and, like she always did, Rose slid her palm over his and twined their fingers together. He gave her a smile, a soft, slow spread of lips that sent warmth pooling inside of her. It was different than his usual manic grin, the sort of expression she liked to fancy that he reserved for her.

"Come on then," he said, and pushed open the doors. They stepped out of the TARDIS and onto the side of a mountain. The air was brisk and Rose was glad that she brought the dressing-gown. The Doctor released her hand. She shivered and blinked as a warm weight settled over her shoulders. It was the Doctor's coat, the one Janis Joplin gave to him (or so he said, she never knew if she could believe all his wild stories). "All right?" he asked.

She nodded. "Where are we?"

"Foothills of the Rocky Mountains, Colorado, the United States," he replied. "Look over there." He pointed off into the distance and Rose could see the sky lightening. His hand slipped back into hers and they stood in the midst of a mass of purple and white wildflowers and watched the sun rise over the mountains. The early-morning rays glanced off the snow that remained on the highest peaks with mirror brightness. All around them the landscape came alive. Birds twittered and whistled, grasshoppers chirped, and squirrels chattered in nearby trees.

Rose turned to the Doctor and smiled. "Thanks for this," she said. "It's gorgeous."

He returned her grin. "You're welcome." He paused and his face shifted, becoming serious. "I am sorry about yesterday."

She stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his cheek. "You're forgiven." And then she shot him a cheeky, tongue-touched smile. "But don't think you're getting out of taking me shopping."

He groaned. "But Ro-ose, I brought you breakfast in bed and took you to watch the sunrise!"

"Yeah, an' you woke me up two hours early and that was tea, thanks, not breakfast," she replied, but with affection, not irritation. "Back to the TARDIS, Doctor. You owe me a new pair of jeans."

He bowed flamboyantly. "After you, Dame Rose. Your wish is my command."


End file.
